


Fibonacci Demons

by imagining_supernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Real World, Angst, Depression, Drug Use, F/M, Nudity, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, References to Addiction, Self-Hatred, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagining_supernatural/pseuds/imagining_supernatural
Summary: The reader reminiscences about how Dean has helped her want to get better and beat her demons. Based on the song My Demons by Starset





	Fibonacci Demons

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where the supernatural world doesn’t exist and all of our monsters are mental and physical. (Wouldn’t that be nice if that was an AU for real life too?

          Rain spattered against the window. The soft raindrops seemed at war with the harsh wind. You stared at the glass as you tried to find the right words.

          “You know, entropy is defined as a gradual decline into disorder.”

          Now it was your fingers in your lap that drew your attention. They were always cold. Your toes too. The rest of your body was always fine, but your fingers and toes couldn’t seem to keep any warmth. Maybe that’s why you spent most of the day tangling, untangling, massaging, and pulling at your fingers. Anything to get some of that warmth to trickle down your arm and into your palm before spreading to the tips.

          “Or, instead of entropy, you can use  _deterioration, degeneration, decline,_ and  _collapse._ ”

          “Is that how you see your life?”

          You finally looked up at the middle-aged man sitting across from you. His receding hairline and curved eyebrows made you believe that he really did care. Hopefully he did care. You were paying a lot for this session.

          “Yes. It’s like a backwards Fibonacci Spiral. You know, the mathematic formula where you add zero and one to get one. Then you add one and one to get two. Then one and two to get three. Then two and three to get five. Then three and five to get eight. And you keep adding the last two numbers in the sequence until you have astronomically large numbers?”

          “But a backwards version of that.”

          A quick nod was your answer, but the therapist just watched you a moment longer and you felt compelled to explain.

          “Like, instead of getting bigger and learning from the past, I’m breaking down. I’m not spiraling out into bigger and better things. I’m spiraling down the toilet drain. Something is dragging me backwards.”

          “Something is dragging you backwards? What do you mean by that?”

          The air felt different in this office than in the rest of the world. Was that a side effect of all of the psychology books on the wall, and the simple, yet tasteful trinkets sprinkled around the room? Whatever it was, the air felt… lighter. It was easier. Safer.

          “I don’t really know. I feel like I’m just waiting for a switch to flip inside of me. I feel like… like someday I won’t be  _me_  anymore.”

          “If that happens, do you know who you’ll become?”

          “Not who. What.”

* * *

_“What’re you putting in?”_

_Mike just grinned and finished shaking the rest of the mystery powder into your glass of vodka._

_“Does it matter? Promise you’ll like it. Just try it.”_

_You were teetering on the edge of the line. The line between harsh reality and glorified escape. Whatever drug Mike just added to your drink would be sure to push you over the edge._

_If you told anyone, they would think you were crazy. But you could_ feel _all of your organs. No matter what you did, you could feel them blackening and rotting. Whatever sickness you had, it set you apart from the rest of your peers. They could always come back from nights like these with headaches and smiles. Not quite so for you._

_But your glorified escape helped you forget your demons for a few hours._

_Slowly, you forced your arm to lift the glass up to your lips._

_“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”_

_The glass was touching your bottom lip when you paused to consider this newcomer’s advice. His deep voice matched his cutting jawline and jade eyes perfectly. At no point in your entire history of parties like this had you ever laid eyes on such a perfectly symmetrical face._

_“Why not?”_

_“Meg had some and she’s puking up everything she’s eaten in the last two weeks right now.”_

_He jerked his head towards the back of the house where you could see someone through the window, bent over a bush._

_“I’m Dean, by the way.”_

_Just like that, the glass was slowly lowering from your lips and the spread of the dark rot inside of you started slowing._

_“Y/N.”_

* * *

          “What do you think you’ll become if this switch flips?”

          This office was much too clean. Everything seemed too shiny. It wasn’t someplace you should feel comfortable. You should be wracked with worry that your mere presence will defile the tidy space. But yet you stayed in the soft chair, massaging each knuckle of your fingers one by one.

          “Have you ever watched any of those old movies with zombies or some sort of gross monster? The good movies before Hollywood romanticized everything. I’m talking about the skin rotting off of the bones, sunken eyes, stringy hair… You see those before?”

          “Is that what you feel is inside? What is on the other side of the switch?”

          A nod in response.

          “Yeah. I just… They keep growing bigger and bigger. They’re everywhere. In my brain, my lungs, my stomach, my kidneys… Everywhere. I used to just get drunk and high to forget it all for a few hours, but that’s not enough. Not anymore.”

          Small, pointy hands were clawing their way up your esophagus, trying to make you shut up. They didn’t want you to get help. They wanted to keep dragging you down. It would be easier to let them have their way. Follow the Fibonacci Spiral backwards until you were nothing, down to zero.

          “Not anymore. What’s changed?”

          Your answer was immediate.

          “Dean.”

* * *

_This was always the worst part. Waking up and coming down. Remembering the rot in your life. Figuring out where you were. Piecing together what you’d done last night._

_“Mornin’ Princess.”_

_Squinted eyes barely made out a shirtless man in an unfamiliar kitchen. As he walked closer, your eyes slowly focused on his face and those alarmingly green eyes begged you to remember. You_ wanted  _to remember this man. Something about this man was important. Something about him made him important to you. Something…_

_“Where am I?”_

_“My place. Out by the railroad station.”_

_The party had been at Mike’s house. At least, you thought so._

_“I’m glad you woke up. I was just trying to decide between pancakes and waffles for breakfast.”_

_“How about some water and aspirin?”_

_His chuckle danced across the air and settled into your bones. That’s when the realization hit. The rot. It wasn’t spreading anymore. It was just sitting in your tissues and cells, stagnant. For the first time since you could remember, you were standing still._

_“Next to you on the table.”_

_There, two feet to your right, was a glass of water and a shot glass with three red pills in it. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to trust this stranger with a drink and pills, but you were so far past that point in your life, so you quickly downed everything._

_“So, pancakes or waffles?”_

_“What happened last night?”_

_Even through this raging headache, you could tell that this man—Dean?—kept his apartment surprisingly clean for a guy. The couch you’d woken up on was comfortable and seemed to be stain-free. There was a recliner across the room, and a large, flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. A tasteful rug and coffee table rounded out the living room. This wasn’t a normal bachelor pad._

_“You were pretty wasted last night. We talked for a while then you decided you wanted fries, so I took you to the diner and we ended up here where you passed out as soon as you sat down. I promise, nothing happened.”_

_Nothing? It wasn’t uncommon to wake up in some stranger’s bed. That seemed to be your weekend tradition. But the clothes you’d worn yesterday were still on your body, and there were two blankets on top of you. You weren’t used to this level of kindness. Usually men just wanted to get you drunk or high, have sex, then never see you again._

_But Dean hadn’t touched you. He set out aspirin and water for you. He gave you blankets after you’d passed out on his couch. He intended to make you breakfast._

_“Why are you being so nice to me?”_

_“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be? You’re not some serial killer, are you?”_

_There was a note of levity in his voice. A twinkle in his eye. A grin on his lips._

_“No. Not yet, anyway. But you don’t even know me.”_

_It was only a matter of time before the rot took over your life. Maybe you wouldn’t let it get that far, or maybe you wouldn’t have a choice. Either way, you didn’t deserve people’s kindness._

_“How about I make some breakfast and I get to know you, then? Maybe I can help you hide the bodies.”_

_After a quick wink, he stood up and headed back to the kitchen._

_“Pancakes or waffles?”_

* * *

          “Dean. He’s the man who came with you today? The one waiting in the lobby?”

          “Yeah. He’s my boyfriend.”

          The rain was still pattering against the window. By now, more clouds had joined the war outside, darkening the room. Thunder pounded distantly, but this room felt safe. You were safe here. Not quite as safe as you were when you were with Dean, but you were still safe enough.

          “How did Dean change this? You said that getting high and drunk isn’t enough anymore. What did he change about that?”

          “I don’t want to escape anymore. When I was numbing myself, I was just forgetting about the monsters inside of me, but they were still there. They were still growing and multiplying and planning attacks. Then I met Dean and… and they stopped. They didn’t leave, but they stopped growing. When I’m with him, everything stands still. I’m not losing the fight, because they aren’t fighting back.”

          Movement caught your eye and one of those perpetual motion toys caught your attention. Three separate silver rods swung around a fulcrum, never slowing and never stopping.

          “I want that. I want to keep moving. Keep moving  _forward_. I don’t want to lose to my demons and I don’t want to stand still. Dean makes me feel better. He takes all of my pain away. But I don’t want him to have to do that. I don’t want to have any pain that he needs to take away. I don’t want to keep worrying that I’m going to turn into my demons and he’ll have to deal with that. I want to… I  _need_  to get better.”

* * *

_What is it about candles that make truth come out? Is it easier to whisper harsh truths to a flame, knowing that as soon as you blow it out, your secret will dissipate with the smoke?_

_“I won’t let that happen, I promise.”_

_Dean’s vow skipped across the warm water and slowly sunk into the tub. In the darkened, candle-lit bathroom, and with the smooth water in the big tub curling around you and Dean, soft words were spoken and dark secrets revealed. Not once did he flinch as you introduced him to the monsters that had emerged from the growing rot within you._

_“What if you can’t help? What if I’m just crazy and it’s my destiny to give in and lose control?”_

_“Then I’ll save you. But you_ aren’t _crazy, Y/N.”_

 _It seemed impossible that someone could become so important to you in the span of just a few weeks. That someone could_ love  _you, even after you peeled back your skin and showed them the dark mush that had replaced your organs. This moment, the moment with Dean’s chest pressed against your back, and the warm, relaxing water hugging your bodies shouldn’t exist._

_“I can’t stop it, Dean. I’ve lived with this for so long and I can’t fight it. It’s taking control and I don’t know what to do.”_

_“You let me help. You keep talking to me about this. And… maybe we go find someone else who can help too. I promise, Y/N. We_ will _kill your monsters.”_

* * *

          “Thank you, again. I’ll see you in a week.”

          After a quick, firm handshake, you were watching your therapist walk back to his office. A sharp fingernail dragged across your intestines. The monsters were still there. It wouldn’t be easy to get rid of them. You were still a single raindrop in the torrential windstorm outside. Helpless.

          But it wouldn’t always be like this.

          “How’d it go?”

          Dean’s familiar hand warmed the small of your back. No time was wasted as you turned and hugged him. His arms blanketed you in comfort and reassurance. There was an unbelievably huge battle waiting for you in the future, but you weren’t alone.

          “Keep making me believe everything will be okay. I can do this. But I can’t do it without you.”

          His strong, calloused fingers framed your face. He lowered his forehead to yours. The contact calmed the storm within you, freezing the demons.

          “You’ll never have to do this without me, Y/N.”


End file.
